“His heart was colorless
until he discovered the cavity’s
lavender cadence and its wildflower
breezed shapes, streaked with cool
witch hazel poultice. Now in his dreams
magic silicates, salt, and potassium
carbonate swell and shift and deliquesce
in the space between his palms.
He has blown himself a glass house
with windows of air and no dark corners.
Morning, he melts a kitchen wall,
opening his solitude to delicate light
seeping through a cascade of indigo wings.
At night, he sings his house to sleep
room by liquid room.”
Shannon Amidon, “The Glassblower”